


Day 2: Bones

by ZephyrOfAllTrades



Series: Spooky Time Stories [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Horror, Human AU, POV Outsider, i don't want to give out too much of the story, major character death for the both of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:49:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27170645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZephyrOfAllTrades/pseuds/ZephyrOfAllTrades
Summary: Sorry for the minimal tags. :)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Spooky Time Stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983229
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25
Collections: Racket’s 13 Days of Halloween





	Day 2: Bones

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the minimal tags. :)

CW: Death and dead people (not graphic)

The rain drummed against the pub’s windows, adding to the general thrum of the blithering clientele within. It was fuller than usual, buzzing with the most recent news.

“Fell finally bit the dust, eh?” one of the patrons asked.

“They found ‘im in the bath. ‘ad a little kip and kept ‘em peepers shut, or so I’m told,” answered another.

“Poor thing. No family or friends to look after him. It was a miracle they found the body before it began to properly rot,” added the Florist.

“Those tax blokes were persistent. I hear they thought Fell was mafia all these years,” came one of the younger customers.

“We all did, luv. They never found a fault in his books,” returned the Florist. She owned the shop next to Fell’s.

“Anybody knows what will happen to his books? The merchandise, I mean,” the bartender butted in.

“Who knows, if he’d only sold them, they had been properly taken care of instead of wasting away in that shop of his,” muttered another patron. It was Soho lore that Fell rarely sold a book. There was a general hum of agreement from the gathered crowd.

Their contemplative silence was shattered when the door opened heralding in the frigid, stormy winds and a haggard looking Baker. He stumbled towards the bar and sat heavily on a stool.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost, dearie,” the Florist sat beside him, waving the bartender over.

“I wished it was a ghost,” the Baker gulped down the shot of whiskey they slid his way.

“Weren’t you supposed to help box Fell’s things?”

“I did help. Now I wished I didn’t.”

“What did you see?” All the others had gone deathly silent, eyes trained towards the Baker. He held up his glass and two more replaced it. He downed both before attempting an answer.

“Remember years back with that very public break up?” he started slowly.

“Oh yes, the dear looked so heartbroken. It had been a red-head wasn’t it? Flash bastard, if I ever saw one. Spouted nonsense about stars and such. Called Fell stupid and yelling he’d never think of him again.”

“He was there. In the shop.” Heads turned his way.

“He came back? How’d he take the news?” The Baker didn’t answer. A few more drinks were shoved his way.

“We found him sprawled out on one side of a bed in the basement,” he intoned, watching the clinking glasses before him. “Apparently there was a bedroom there beside the restoration area,” he held out his hands to stall the questions he knew they had. “He wouldn’t talk. **Couldn’t** , I mean. He was already dead.”

It took a minute for the words to sink in and the outcries of confusion and shock to start. The Baker held his hand up once more. “We thought he was sleeping but when we rushed over we found a mummified corpse. He was literally only skin and bones. Then again, he had already looked it when he was alive,” the baker laughed hollowly.

“Are you sure it was him?” the Florist choked out, disbelieving.

“It was dressed in all black - silk pajamas of all things - and hair clumsily dyed a bright red. His keys and wallet were left in the bedside drawer. Driver’s license expired five years ago.” The Baker rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to rid it of the things he’d witnessed. “But the worst part?” he looked around at the earnest faces. “Everything looked clean. The other side of the bed had been slept in, an empty mug of cocoa and a bookmarked novel on the bedside table. And some of Fell’s blonde curly strands still clinging on to the other pillow.”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by _A Rose for Emily_ by William Faulkner.
> 
> You can also read this on my [Tumblr.](https://zephyrofalltrades.tumblr.com/post/632575368527806464/day-2-bones)


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